Midgets Are My Weakness
by DoctorDre317
Summary: I am most definitely not a pussy. I have no idea why my unofficial girlfriend thinks I am.
1. Not A Pussy

**PUCKLEBERRY. Slightly AU. Puck and Rachel are together. Done.**

* * *

"Noah? I'm your official girlfriend, right?" Rachel asked me, her doe eyes looking up at me.

I wanted to die on the spot. You do not ask a BAMF that question. Hell, you don't ask _any _guy that question. That question is for pussies. Pussies who are wussies. God, why am I even thinking about this?

"Yeah." I answered casually, gently grabbing her hand.

I know what you guys are thinking- "OMG! Puck the stud and Rachel the crazy-ass midget are together?" Yup. We are. But don't act so surprised. You all knew it was coming. I mean, look at me. I'm hot. And she's kind of hot. It's inevitable.

(Okay, so fine. I never stopped liking her but my feelings weren't butterfly shit and stuff, it was just attraction- then I started having *gag* _real _feelings for her later on. I asked her out, she said no, she broke up with Finn, we went out, etc.)

"You never asked me." She mentioned off-handedly, removing her hand from mine.

I could sense a confrontation coming along. Act cool, Puck. Don't piss off the midget.

"Okay?" I answered, trying my best to act calm.

"You should ask me." She tried again.

"No." I immediately replied.

What? As I said, I'm a badass- I don't ask these shitty questions. In fact, she should be the one to ask me to be her boy friend. I try to be all chivalrous and crap but I can't. It's impossible. I'm simply way too awesome to carry books and open doors for women.

"It's just a question." She said calmly, but her eyes were all getting big (which means she's about to explode).

"Look, babe- we're kind of together, whether you like it or not. I'm not gonna ask some shi-"she gave me a look. "Crappy question just to make you happy."

"Are you that much of a pussy?" she dared to ask.

I cringed. Pussy? I hated that word. That word should be erased from the English language. It should be beaten up, peed on, crumpled, eaten, whatever, and just die. Pussy should die and go to hell. And she knew that. My crazy midget girlfriend knew that I hated that word, so she's using it against me! Ah, I've taught her well. But still? Me? Puckzilla is not a pussy. I'm a BAMF. Die, pussy, die.

"I am not a-" I whispered the word. "pussy!"

"You are if you can't ask me to be your girlfriend." She replied smugly.

Damn her manipulative skills.

It's not like I'm some creep who beats her up. I may not be the typical "good" boyfriend, but hell, I'm a pretty damn good boyfriend. I pick her up, I drop her home, I don't pressure her to go all the way, and I sometimes carry her stuff. What else does she want, right?

I mean, I just dropped her home! Does she want me to throw a pebble on her window at midnight and serenade her? Do I honestly need to ask her to be my girlfriend? Boyfriends do this shit. It's the rules.

Leaning back on my car seat (I could've walked her to her door, but what's the point? I dropped her home anyway and we're in the driveway, isn't that close enough?), I turned on the radio and closed my eyes.

Usually Berry would've turned the radio off and rant about how insensitive I am, but this time she didn't. She simply shrugged and made a move to get out of my car.

Crap. I admit I'm a bit insensitive, but I knew something was wrong if she didn't wanna talk about it (she always wants to talk about her feelings and shit).

She just opened the door when I grabbed her arm. She looked at me with annoyed eyes and tried to struggle out of my grasp. I didn't let go.

"Let. Me. Go. Noah!" she ordered

"Never." She frowned. "Let's just talk, okay?" She stopped wriggling.

With my hand still clutching her arm, I pulled her closer.

"What do you want me to do? Bring you on real dates and give you monthsary gifts? You know I can't be that guy. It doesn't mean I like you any less."

It was true. Rachel was (probably) my closest friend at the moment. I really liked her but damn it, I'm not going to hold hands with her in public and declare my everlasting love. It's just not me. And dear Lord, if she expected me to share a milkshake with her, my manhood would disappear.

"I don't want you do those ridiculous things." She huffed. "I would never ask you to do that!"

"Then what do you want me to do?" I pleaded, but I secretly breathed a sigh of relief. No serenading, no holding hands in the park, no feeding ducks, and no milkshakes!

"Just ask me. To make it official."

"No."

"Then goodbye." She said dramatically, wriggled her arm free, walked to her porch, and slammed the door.

Huh. Maybe I should've asked her.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**I'm a Finchel girl, but bitter Puck was just too funny to write. Hope you guys enjoyed it! :)**

**P.S. It's a two-part story.  
**


	2. Definitely A Pussy

5:43pm

She still refused to talk to me.

I knew my midget was dramatic and all but she's killing me over here. I don't like asking shitty questions (seriously, what was the point?) but she's making me reconsider my badassness. With an exasperated sigh, I ripped out a page from my notebook and wrote down a list.

_Should I ask her to be my GF?_

_Pros:_

_She will officially be my GF (note: complete gayness)_

_She'll be happy (note: whatever, fine)_

_If she's happy, I'm happy (note: *gag*)_

_I'll probably get to feel her up after (note: excellent)_

_Cons:_

_My manhood will die (note: not happening)_

_My ego will get hurt (note: happens way too often anyway)_

_My rep will be destroyed (note: sort of happening already)_

_She'll be mad forever (note: hell)_

_If she's mad, I'm mad (note: truth)_

Looks like there's more negative stuff than positive stuff. Hah. I win.

* * *

7:05pm

While watching Charlie and The Chocolate Factory with my sister, I've realized that Rachel's like an oompa loompa. She's tiny and annoying but she's useful and talented. Except she's way hotter than those creeps.

(Note: I'm honestly trying to not think about her, but I can't help it)

I'm not a mean boyfriend... I really dig her, alright? She makes me smile, and she's _real_. And she's smart. And I'm not gonna list down all the things I like about her because that's really gay. Like Kurt gay. And that's gross.

Anyway. Back to the huge problem- her not talking to me. I know it's actually kind of a good thing (her not talking) but it's also a bad thing (her not talking to _me_).

Look, I know what you're thinking. Puckzilla is gonna cave in and be a pussy and serenade her or do whatever... that is not happening. I will never ask her. Ever. I should stop thinking about it.

* * *

9:45pm

The fact that my midget was still ignoring me was starting to get to me.

Maybe it would be easier if I just swallowed my pride? Nah, I'll just go to sleep (I know, a badass going to sleep before 10pm?). Since midget and I started dating, she "forbade me to go to scandalous parties that will only result in me being inebriated", which means I'm not allowed to go to parties because I'll only end up drunk (I didn't argue with her, it was the truth).

* * *

11pm

She got to me. I couldn't stop thinking about her. Her smile, her laugh, her quirks, her voice, her kisses, even her vocabulary. Damn her.

I sighed in defeat. She won, like she always did. I didn't even have a chance against her dark powers. Usually, I'm pretty good in manipulating other people. It's easy. You just lie and act concerned. Rachel, on the other hand, was way sneakier than that. She somehow makes you think it was your idea (this happens to me a lot). But the times it doesn't work (like now), she acts like she's not mad when she is (which makes you feel guilty). The point is, midget won. And that's that.

I stood up, put on a shirt, and grabbed my car keys. I was going to make her my official girlfriend.

* * *

11:13pm

"What do you mean you won't go outside?" I asked angrily, looking up at her window.

"It's late, Noah." She sighed, like she was the one being inconvenienced. I freaking drove to her house to make her my girlfriend and she was upset? Total bull.

"So?"

"Tomorrow's Sunday." She explained, yawning at the same time.

"So?"

"I have activities to do."

I almost growled. She was being a total bitch right now. I sacrificed my pride to make her happy and she won't even let me see her?

"Just come outside. It'll be quick." I promised. Even though I was seething, I could control my temper with ease (not really, I'm close to punching a tree).

"Can we talk tomorrow?"

"No." Who the hell does she think she is? Fine, maybe she was the only girl I was seeing, but does she have to be so evil?

"Noah…" she started. "I'm really tired. Can we please talk about this tomorrow?"

"Berry." I said firmly. "We need to talk now."

"Fine." She relented. "Let's discuss things. Why do we need to talk _now_?"

Shit. I didn't have a speech readied out.

"Berry-"

"Rachel." She corrected.

"Shit. Right. Rachel… um, do I have to do this?"

"Do what?" She inquired innocently.

"You're doing this on purpose!" I shouted.

"I am most certainly not. What am I doing, Noah? Please explain. You wake me up late at night, beg me to talk to you, and blame me for doing this?"

Crap. The way she explained things made it seem like I was some crazy-ass boyfriend (I swear, it was part of her dark powers).

"What's the point of me asking you to be my girlfriend anyway? I already know the answer." I huffed, irritated. And the fact that she couldn't read my mind irritated me further.

"Are you sure about that?"

I scoffed, refusing to believe her. "You honestly would turn me down?"

"You should find out for yourself."

Damn.

"Can you just stop being a bitch for one second?"

Silence was the reply. I knew that was the wrong thing to say to my midget.

"Rachel?" I asked cutely.

I heard a click.

I was dead.

* * *

11:30pm

Chicks suck.

No, seriously, they suck. They're hot and whatever, but they're all bitches (maybe not _all_, but you get my point).

Rachel was annoying and pushy, but she was not a bitch. She's too nice and polite and weird like that. But I sacrificed my pride, drove to her house, and was going to ask her to be my official (still so gay) girlfriend. Shouldn't she be more sensitive? Wasn't that a bitchy move for her to do? To make me suffer on purpose? Okay, so maybe she didn't know I was outside her house. But couldn't she just read my mind? Things would be so much easier that way.

This whole thing was not my fault. It's her fault. I didn't want to ask her to be my girlfriend. These things aren't asked anymore. They're just implied. The same way with "courting". Who the hell still does that? That was like, centuries ago. Now courting is the equivalent of texting. You don't dance with a girl in public to show your interest, you simply ask for her number. And when you want to date her, you don't send flowers to her house and send crappy love letters, you ask her out. Simple as that. And why the hell can't we (Rachel & I) be like that? Simple and easy? Oh wait. It was Rachel. And she's a complicated midget. Damn.

If this were the 18th century, I wouldn't mind serenading her or do some romantic shit like that. It was _cool _back then. It was acceptable. Now-a-days, just asking a girl to prom is a pussy move. And I am not a pussy.

So winning her back? Yeah, there weren't a lot of choices. A sorry text wouldn't be enough, and I don't wanna call her again (she probably won't pick up). The only things left were what whipped boys would do.

Crap. I think I have to do that.

Crap. I'm going to do it.

* * *

12:04am

Throwing pebbles at a window is harder than you think.

In movies, they make it seem so easy and so romantic. In real life, not so much. I almost broke her window on the first try. And by the sixth try, I'm pretty sure I cracked her window.

Before I was able to throw another one, her window quickly opened.

"Noah." She hissed, her face red. "Go home."

"No."

"Please?" she begged, her doe eyes getting all cute and crap.

"No." I answered again, completely aware of her growing frustration.

"What do you want?" she snapped. Surprisingly, I wasn't mad. Huh. Maybe I was serious about her.

"I want to apologize to my almost girlfriend." I gave her a charming smile.

She didn't say anything.

I took it as a good sign and continued. "I didn't wanna serenade you because, well- it's overdone." I admitted. "So I wrote a poem. It's not really good, and it's really gay. But I hope you like it." Someone just kill me.

"I like your smile. And I like the way you dress. I like the way you move, and the way you always leave me so impressed. You're kind of annoying in glee and really smart and I know you're only like that because you have a big heart. You talk too much and you sing a lot, but that's okay- 'because you're hot."

I smirked. She blushed.

"Your voice amazes me and you've got a nice body. And I usually like to show girls off, but I don't want to share you with anybody."

She smiled in that sentimental way that tugs your heart.

"Anyway." I started nervously. "Rachel, I really like you, okay? And I know I don't show it a lot, but I do."

She nodded, a faint smile on her face.

"I'm serious about this, I mean us. And I'd like it if you were my official girlfriend."

Hey, I made a really sappy poem. I'm not gonna ask her in a sappy way too.

"Okay." She breathed.

"Okay?" I asked.

"Yes!" she corrected herself, slightly giggling.

Aw. She's cute.

"Can you come down? I wanna kiss you." I informed her.

"Sure."

And just like that, Rachel Berry became my official girlfriend.

(Okay, so not just like that, we had to go through a difficult argument and there were some tears (most definitely her) and some hurtful words (most definitely me), and I had to become a sap, and we kissed, and then we were okay).

If it were any other girl, I would've just left her. But it's Rachel, she's _my _midget. And it's somehow different with her.

We were going to fight, that's for sure. And we were going to break up and make up. And fight and kiss. And help each other. And love each other (probably, just a theory).

But as long as Rachel was with me, being obnoxious and caring, maybe, just maybe, a relationship wouldn't be too bad.

She could be the princess, and I could be Mario (a hotter version, of course). And I would fight mushrooms and save her from bad guys.

(God, I'm so whipped.)

Eh, I always had a soft spot for midgets.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**It is finished. My first Puckleberry story is done!  
**

**Ughhh. I love writing Puck (mostly because I made him bitter, and bitter people are fun to write). And I'm glad that I introduced him to this archive.  
**

**Hopefully, I will write more bitter Puck stories (some without Rachel, just his problems, etc.) And he will be even more bitter, irrational, and funny.  
**

**Hope you guys enjoyed it! :)**

**P.S. Reviews make me smile.  
**


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